


The Spymaster and the Fool

by wormghoul



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Legends: The Old Republic
Genre: Gen, Graphic Violence, Shadow of Revan Spoilers, Smuggler spoilers, blood warning, dark!Theron, imperial spy AU, post class story, some people?? write bad AUs??? to cope???
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-05-23
Updated: 2017-05-23
Packaged: 2018-11-04 01:13:12
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,326
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10979283
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wormghoul/pseuds/wormghoul
Summary: After her misadventures with Darmas Pollaran, that Imperial scum, Miraji has sworn off men completely. But when she's trapped in a tiny safe house with the warm, handsome, and kind Theron Shan her plans crumble to pieces. Perhaps they're all stir crazy from having to hide from the Revanites, but she's sure that just a little fling can't hurt, right?





	The Spymaster and the Fool

**Author's Note:**

> Cool, so this is was inspired by the in-game letter the smuggler receives when they complete Manaan, wherein Jedi Master Sumalee warns the smuggler that Theron might be as murderous as the rumors claim. Title inspired by the folktale "The Spider and the Fly"  
> (This is graphic and heavily AU)

     Miraji had just landed on Rishi when her holocom chirped down the hall. Normally Risha would handle the comms but she was gone now, with her shiny new Dubrillion husband, leaving a half-dressed Miraji to stumble from her quarters to the main room. Still working at dressing herself in battle gear, she flicked her hand lazily over the sensor, opening the message to let it play. The machine droned that the message had been sent with some priority and with no identified sender - typical of most of her less than upstanding contacts. As the damnable thing finally got to the message, Miraji saw the holoprojector take the form of that Jedi Risha knew, Master Sumalee. The vibrant ex-con Togruta began her address formally and rigidly like a proper Jedi, boring her worse than the computerized announcing, but then her tone suddenly shifted, turning worried.  

   "I  _sense that you’re in terrible danger_ ,” the hologram flickered as Sumalee glanced over her shoulder, almost paranoid. “ _I can’t shake it Mira, and I feel like it has to do with this Theron Shan business.”_ Sumalee took another pause to wring her hands and scan the room. Theron was a touchy subject within the halls of the Temple. From what Miraji had picked up from the gossip channels, none of the Jedi could conceive of Grand Master Satele’s son becoming a vicious rogue agent. They were hurt by it, all of them, even though none of them really fostered any kind of relationship with the man, given the code and whatnot. Sumalee took a breath and continued,  “ _I just think, that maybe, if he did kill Colonel Darok, he could be after you next. I know you aren’t particularly active within the Republic anymore but that privateer business gave you a reputation among the military and SIS. Even worse, you’ve worked with him and you know how scary effective he is. Please, don’t trust anyone, and stay safe, Captain._ ” and with that, the image clicked off and the message archived itself.

The idea of Theron being a murderer was laughable. He was soft and good, like some kind of comic book hero, leaving Miraji to admire the SIS’s handiwork in making him truly seem like a rogue agent. She almost thought it was too good, since Sumalee and the Jedi wouldn’t fall for any old ruse. To see the shockwaves pouring out from this Revanite business have such an effect invigorated her again, reminding her of the stakes of the game she played here on Rishi. After all, she felt badly for Sumalee; worry was Miraji’s least favorite feeling, and she prefered her former lovers to only think of her fondly, if at all.

 

-

 

    The mission on Rishi turned out to be a complete clusterfuck of an operation. Theron had been kidnapped at Lana’s behest, a gaggle of ex-slaves pledged themselves to her (reformed) pirate crew, and several severe injuries were actually turning out to be the least of her problems on this scumball planet. Of all the terrible fates to befall her, she’d had to fall for Theron Shan, in just the same way she’d fallen for Darmas Pollaran. He was charismatic, for one, and as she spent more time with him she saw how well they worked together. While Theron wasn’t offering her a throne in a shared criminal empire, he was representative of that fast paced life of love and glory she’d been craving since the war had slowed to a stalemate in recent years. The exhilaration she got from thinking of being with him, a real galactic hero, wouldn’t cease either, even when she reminded herself that her last relationship with a man who excited her like that had ended with the imperial spy in a bodybag and Miraji swearing off men. But as she watched him bring a cup of caf to his lips to take a long sip, she couldn’t help but wonder what those lips would feel like on her skin. Her blood boiled from the mixed heats of self hate and desire. She heard Theron’s mug clink back down onto the table as he exhaled quietly. She went back to cleaning her blaster in an attempt to center herself.

     Being trapped in this tiny safehouse had pushed her to a crisis point. As she ran a rag over the barrel of the gun she heard Sumalee’s words again in her head - _terrible danger...Theron Shan...stay safe_. The jedi had been right after all, Miraji _was_ in danger in the face of Theron Shan, just not the way Sumalee had thought. She turned the pistol over in her hands, trying to admire the aging weapon to no avail. She’d been too distracted to shine it properly and so she let it clatter back down onto the table in frustration. She streaked her hands down her face before she rubbed her forehead in exhausted defeat, cursing every blasted Revanite that had ever existed for essentially trapping her in this tiny house, preventing her from dealing with the situation in her usual manner - by running away from it, maybe into the arms of some lonely, half drunk cantina patron. Maybe if she could just -

    “You’re staring, Captain,” Theron murmured, interrupting her thoughts. Miraji hadn’t noticed that she’d looked up from her discarded blaster to stare holes into the man. She swore she could hear the self satisfied smirk in his voice. _His crooked smirk- the devilishly perfect one_ , she thought, the idea slipping through several layers of mental shields. He chuckled as she languished for a response. “It’s okay, so long as you like what you see.” there was no mistaking his tone for anything but flirtation. If Miraji was tongue tied before she had no idea what to call herself now, knowing her life had suddenly become more complicated if there existed a mutual desire. This shack must be driving everyone absolutely stir crazy.

     Theron stood and sauntered over to take a seat across from Miraji at the small dejarik table, eyes glinting deviously in the wake of his little flirtatious victory. Gingerly he set Miraji’s blaster down next to him and waved his other hand over the table, inviting her to play. She took it as a challenge and clicked the table on. They played a round, speaking only with eye contact and body language, like an intricate dance of wits and wills. Lana had even wandered over to watch the game, since it wasn’t often that one could witness a serial gambler and a master spy face off in one of the most famous underworld games. Pieces moved about deftly, dizzyingly with neither ready to accept a loss. But by the end of it, he had her backed into both corners in a decisive victory.  Cockily, Theron leaned back and bit the tip of his thumb, satisfied with himself. Even Lana seemed to be proud of her little Republic compatriot.

    “So, what do I win?” he asked, boasting his victory, and folding his hands behind his head with glee. Summoning all of her smuggler’s charm, Miraji conjured up an answer to his prodding this time.   

   “How about some alone time, champ?” her voice was steady and still proud, despite every cell in her body telling her not to do this again, not to fall for another detached and vaguely unavailable man. Before she could think better of it and retract the offer, Theron had agreed. Lana groaned at the display, yet, Miraji could tell she wasn’t resigned to the idea completely, as someone in the safehouse needed to let off steam before the whole thing exploded. She just insisted that they take their tryst to some motel in town so they didn’t ruin anything, be it in a drunken spar or with...stains. So they agreed to her terms, setting out with eyes for a shifty by-the-hour room rental at a local cantina.

    When they found one, the sun had already begun to drop below the horizon - _how romantic_ she’d thought. The inside of the cantina smelled of cheap booze and desperation, a smell she knew well and had come to appreciate in some sense. The seediness of the cantina was like a safety blanket to the pirate, bolstering her resolve and otherwise wobbly legs as they walked towards what was almost certainly to be her life’s latest mistake. Leaning on the bar, Theron palmed some credits over to the bartender for four hours time downstairs, in the most isolated room they had as he was planning on ‘ _making the little zabrak scream'._ The fact he’d been forward enough to admit his intentions to a random stranger thrilled her. With key card in hand he led her through a maze of patrons towards a dimly lit hallway. His little stunt at the bar and the general ambience of the cantina reminded her of the trysts she’d had in her youth, those quick fucks in Nar Shadda alleys, hiding from police and respectable populace alike. And while this was about scratching her latest itch, a small part of her was eager to fuck the last bits of Pollaran off of her, since no matter how dedicated Akaavi’s tongue was, Miraji swore she could still feel his mark on her.

     Maybe the Force cared about the blind nobodies like her and had sent its prodigal blind son to cleanse her. That thrill and excitement bubbled up through her toes and caught in her throat as the durasteel door slid open with a small creak, revealing a small room with a bed and ‘fresher. By any other standards it would be a shit room, with grey walls and dubiously sanitary surfaces, but at the same time, it was perfect for their plans. Like the gentleman he was, Theron ushered Miraji in first, following behind her, sliding the door shut with another creak.

    “So, where to start?” she mused, back to him still, trusting he had a plan in mind. She began to turn to face him but he moved like a blur, closing the gap by placing a forearm around her throat.

    “You should have listened to that Jedi, little Mira,” he growled into her hair as his free hand disarmed her completely, going so far as to drag her down by the throat to strip away her drop gun. The use of the pet name her lovers called her made her blood run like ice. Her heart fluttered frantically when she realized she was little more than a trapped animal. He released pressure slightly only to pistol whip her with the butt of her own blaster.

     She fell dizzied to the floor in a pile at his feet. Pain ripped through her body like fire as she felt the hit start to swell between two horns. He bent to heave her over his shoulder and move towards the bed, the motion purging all remaining air from her lungs. She could tell that he took pleasure in her pained gasp. Stars, she was fucked, and not in the good way. He walked her over to the bed and toases her down face first, the rough landing eaking out another rush of pain. She breathlessly stuttered out his name in protest, fear and so many other mixed feelings. Miraji didn’t understand why he was doing this, he was an esteemed Republic agent fighting the good fight, and he didn’t seem like some sick pervert who got his kicks through violence, Besides, hurting her now would only ruin the operation, wouldn’t it? He ran broad hands down her sides and legs, frisking her for more weapons, then straddled her back, pinning her to the bed.

    “Theron! Theron, what are you doing?” she said with a trembling voice. He answered her with silence and the cold press of a vibroblade tearing her shirt down her spine. “Oh, come on,” she squeaked, “you’re, you’re one of the good guys, _stop_ ,” terror laced its way down every neuron in her brain as they tried their best to come up with an escape plan. But her legs were totally useless under his weight. He leaned in close to whisper in her ear.

    “ _Captain,_ you’re smarter than that, use some of that famous wit of yours, privateer!” The last word slid from between his teeth in a hiss. Theron then summarily stabbed her in the thigh, giving the knife a little twist, cutting a tendon. The pain was immense, but she wouldn’t give him the satisfaction of a scream, swallowing it with a groan and a mouthful of the foul bedspread instead. The warm flow of blood snaked down her left leg, her _dominant_ leg.  _He knows what he’s doing_ , she thought, and _he’s going to fucking kill me._ She cursed herself and her cockiness and Force knows what else that had gotten her here. Her near silence perturbed him, and he clicked his tongue in a mocking manner. He reached up and balled a fist in her short hair, yanking her head up to look her in the eyes.

     “You know why I’m here, tell me about the Republic’s network of smuggler spies and this will stop, I promise,” the words felt like a curse as he threw her head back down and slashed down her back in a swift, trained move. Miraji couldn’t help but yelp this time, with some part of her hoping that the display of suffering would appease the sadist looming above her. Despite the heat she should have been feeling from the wound, her body was almost numb. All that time he’d spent getting to know her were ploys, she realized. The synergy faked...The whole thing was a trap. If she’d just been stupider, just gloated about her accomplishments under Republic sanction like she gloated about all her other heists...

    “You already know about us! You know what I was!” she offered, vision swimming. The cut on her back was deeper than expected and liquid warmth bloomed from shoulder to hip. She’d apparently answered wrong, as the durasteel cut into the middle of her back again, cutting in the opposite direction to form a sizable x on her bare back.

     “Oh, I know you existed but I want to know what you’ve done. After that senator was exposed, the committees destroyed her records, making you and all of your friends vanish into smoke.” he explained as he yanked an arm up, clasping one cold binder cuff to her wrist and the other to the bedpost, holding her there. “So,” he groaned out as he gave her other arm the same treatment, “I want to know how you earned your commendations. And who else you cavorted with.” Miraji turned her head to rest her face on its side, breathing ragged. She’d imagined her own death before, but more as a swashbuckling pirate dying amongst her credit piles rather than filleted to death by an actual maniac. But she’d also refuse to go down a coward, she resolved herself to be defiant to the last, keeping her mouth shut.

     “That’s okay, Captain, take a moment.” Theron told her, rising off the bed to let his gun belt clatter to the floor. Miraji also heard him take off his jacket and open a small field kit. From her vantage point on the bed she couldn’t see the little shop of horrors he pulled out of his jacket, which was little consolation when she heard the crunch of his boots on the carpet and felt the groan of the bed as Theron retook his earlier position above her. Miraji’s heart thundered in her chest, threatening to crack her own ribs before he even got the chance.

     “Have you made your choice, yet? Or are we going to have to play hardball?” his voice was so even in its surety and so calm in tone, like he was asking which ration pack she’d prefer. Miraji bit her tongue still, closing her eyes and preparing herself for the next hit. Instead of slashing at her again, Theron gathered a small pinch of skin, just below her neck and inserted a hypo needle. With a push of the plunger he unleashed a terrible fire throughout her body, injecting some kind of sensitivity stim, making her feel everything all over again - the bruise on her head, her lame leg, the cuts on her back, and the sharp bite of the binders as they ate into her wrists. A scream tore from her throat before she could stop it and she began to sob. He ruffled a hand in her short hair in a friendly manner, as if to praise her for breaking the silence.

 

     “I don’t know anything, I don’t know anyone else,” she sobbed out, clutching the sheets in weak fists, desperate not to concede. He didn’t believe her though, and rewarded her insolence with another cut from the small vibroknife, only this one had the pressure and pain of a thousand suns and their fury. Another scream, another insistence that she had been flying blind under Pollaran and the senator. Another lie he didn’t believe.

     His methods varied little as his patience grew thinner. Theron threatened her with another dose of the stim. He threatened to keep her alive, just like this, until she confessed. But then he _threatened_ _her_ _crew_. He told her of his network of affiliates tailing Risha on Dubrillion, watching Akaavi and Bowdaar on one of their hunts, he claimed to even have someone with eyes as far as Master Sumalee. Theron amended his last threat, warning to keep her alive just like this, and make her watch as he decimated her crew - _her_ _family_.   

     “Don’t...don’t hurt them, she whimpered into the bed.

     “Then tell me everything, little Mira, sing like a fucking canary!” he yelled, sheathing a small knife in her skin. And sang she did, to protect them, to do one last good thing and clean the slate, atone for selling out to the sadist Shan.

    “Kriff, I should have started with that, shouldn’t I?” he muttered, pulling a majority of his weight off her. “I wouldn’t have needed to waste the credits for four whole hours.” he was patronizing her, making her stomach turn. He unlatched the restraints and flipped her over. Roughly, he pulled her into a sitting position and began to rub blood back into her wrists. Stunned, she didn’t fight him, but let him continue his ministrations, even as he moved to wipe the tears from her eyes.

“Hey now, I said if you told me it would be over, that it’d be alright, hm?” he hummed, thumbing away another tear. The kindness in his voice was poorly masked cruelty, giving her false hope she could still escape alive, could still flee to wild space, change names and - no, that was never going to happen.  He sat up from the bed, kneeling down to retrieve his jacket and gun belt. Again, she closed her eyes and waited.

    One breath. Two. No pain came, but no release came either. Miraji heard him take a few steps back, but one of her legs laid lamely off the bed, meaning physical restraint or not, she was still trapped. She tried as hard as she could to think of a way out of this. There had to be a way out of this, right?

 _No, there wasn’t,_ she realized with cold finality when she heard the familiar faint whir of a plasma charge warming up in the barrel of a blaster.

    Her life didn’t flash before her eyes, she wouldn’t have wanted it to anyways, once was enough. She pictured her crew, even Guss, and hoped to all the forces in the universe that she’d kept them safe. She remembered the old prayers her mother said at night when she was small. Miraji focused on that sweet sound and not Theron’s voice as he bid her goodbye, saying,

**_“For the Empire, and Pollaran, too”_ **

 

**Author's Note:**

> comments are rad so go ahead and roast me or whatever, thanks heaps kids


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